Sicknesses
by Technical Technicalities
Summary: Stan's sick, so Kyle has to bring him his homework. (LATE! Christmas present for xStylennybuttmanx)


A/N: Le random Stan and Kyle fic for xStylennybuttmanx! Kyle's POV, by the way. It's short, because I'm terrible...

Edit: Oh. My. Fucking. God. This was supposed to be a Christmas present and it's like, what January 10th? Procrastination Nation...

**Kyle's POV**

* * *

I hate being sick. I hated all the thermometers, the soup, the goddamn cough syrup, the horrible medication that should taste like strawberries but tastes like burnt hair, etc. Being sick was no fun. Sure, it got you out of school, but then your friend would bring by your homework and you'd get the fun of trying to do your homework with a headache and fever. I've had plenty of fun doing that.

I hated it even more when my best friend...nah, super best friend was sick though.

* * *

"Hey Jew fag!" Cartman greeted as he ran up to the bus stop. I didn't bother replying, as I knew it would just start another landslide of insults. More importantly, I was wondering why Stan wasn't here. Last time, it had been because of how Shelly had locked him in his room, however the hell that happened. The window had also been bolted shut, so poor Stan had to sit in there for a whole day before his dad kicked the door down. Okay, okay, I'm getting off topic.

So, Kenny was late again, as usual. He claimed that he had "died yesterday" but nobody believed him. I thought he was schizophrenic, so I never said anything.

The bus came, and we shuffled and in and sat in our usual seats before an orange-clad figure came running down the street. "WAIT!" Kenny yelled as he strained to catch up to the bus stop. The bus driver rolled her eyes, and reluctantly took her foot off the pedal. He entered the bus, panting, and sat down next to Cartman. Stan usually sat by me, but I guess I was alone today.

Well, I was alone until Lola came up to me. "Hi...what's your face. Can I sit here?" She asked, and smiled.

"My name's Kyle..." I told her, surprised that she didn't know my name after I've been in her class for two fucking years.

"Oh, cool." She replied, and put her backpack on the floor. It was kinda awkward having her sit there, especially because when Stan sat there, I'd end up taking a nap on him on the way to school, while he looked out the window. I obviously couldn't lay down on Lola, especially because I don't know her too well. Instead, I opted to do what Stan did on most mornings; stare out the window (like I had mentioned earlier).

"Aw, little Kylie got a girlfriend!" Kenny mocked behind me.

"Aw, little Kenny got a boyfriend!" I countered back, looking at him and Cartman. Needless to say, that shut him up. It wasn't a good comeback, but it worked.

* * *

"All right class, now, who can tell me why Angelina Jolie is a skank?" Mr. Garrison asked. His fourth graders stared at him, unsure of who that was. "Well?!"

"Uh...a crab person?" Clyde supplied. Mr. Garrison rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Can anybody else besides the retard answer me?" He asked again. Clyde put his head down on his desk.

"So I'm going to have to go over it again..." Mr. Garrison said, and turned around to write on the blackboard. I sat in my chair, bored as fuck. Mr. Garrison always managed to teach us anything but academics.

It was only a short while before I had to go home anyway. Well, first, I should probably stop by Stan's house and give him his homework. We only had math homework tonight anyway. Mr. Garrison assigned it to us in the middle of a Kate Upton rant.

* * *

I rang Stan's doorbell, expecting for his mother to answer. Sure enough, Sharon did answer. "Oh hello Kyle! Stanley's not feeling too well, but-"

"I just came to give him his homework."

"Oh, come in then." Mrs. Marsh told me, and I, on autopilot, walked up the stairs that I had walked up many times before. I knocked on his door.

"It's open." I heard a voice croak from inside. I opened the door to see Stan laying down his bed, a box of tissues on his nightstand and a television remote on his stomach.

"Aw dude, what's wrong?"

"I have a cold. What the fuck did you think?" Stan replied sarcastically.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I completely thought that you had spotted fever." I told him with just as much snarkiness (A/N: Fuck you, that's totally a word. At least in my own world).

"Dude whatever. Why'd you come over?"

"Oh uh...I brought your homework over," I said, and pulled it out of a folder I had put it in. "Here."

"Ugh homework...thanks."

"No problem dude."

"So what...are you going to go home now?" Stan asked, looking disappointed. I slid into bed next to him.

"Dude scoot the fuck over." I told him, and he obeyed, rolling over onto the right side of the bed.

"In case you didn't notice, I'm sick, and you're kind of laying next to me." Stan said, pointing out the obvious.

"I don't mind." I replied, and rested an arm on his stomach.

"Can you hand me a tissue?" He asked. I complied, and leaned over to get a tissue. I handed it to him, and he blew his nose into it. "What do you want to do?"

"Let's just watch cartoons." I said, and he put on _Terrance and Phillip_.

"Hey...uh thanks for coming over." Stan said, and rested his head against my shoulder. Being this close to him would probably make me sick tomorrow, but I didn't mind.

Spending time with your super best friend was probably more important anyway.


End file.
